


Happily (N)ever After

by izazov



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, frog thor - Freeform, this really should have been crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4727171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's best friend stupidly gets himself cursed and turned into a frog. Loki's life grows progressively worse afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was never meant to be more than a silly oneshot based on a prompt from [this list](http://rayemars.tumblr.com/post/125166160525/mythological-creature-aus/). And then the plot happened.

“This is not working.” Thor’s voice is calm and patient; even wistful. It makes Loki want to scream in helpless frustration.

As if he were the one to enrage a witch sufficiently enough to turn him into a frog, not Thor.

Loki grimaces and lifts the heel of his hand against his forehead and presses hard. Thor is right. It has been three months since _The Incident_ \- as Loki likes to refer to the curse that has befallen his best friend - and they have gotten nowhere near the solution to Thor’s predicament.

Three months, and countless eyebrows raised in wonder and shock, followed by a polite decline or an outright laugher to Loki’s - polite, even if it cost him much willpower to keep his face and voice civil - pleas for help. 

Pleas which consisted of a simple thing - a kiss. Freely given. 

Loki was the one to suggest it to Thor. Thor was, to put it mildly, skeptical about the chances of anyone being willing to kiss a frog. A talking frog who happens to be a man, but a frog nonetheless.

“Perhaps we should stop.” Thor suggests, making Loki’s head snap toward him, his forehead drawing into a frown. 

“No.” Loki declines, his voice brooking no argument.

Thor may look like a frog - a rather beautiful frog with golden skin - but the eyes remain Thor’s - clear as a summer sky. And currently looking at Loki with a mix of resignation, fondness and sadness.

“It won’t work.” Thor says. “It’s only making you stressed and tired. And yesterday you almost got into a fight.”

Loki’s lips press tighter when he recalls the idiot who wanted to show how tough he is in front of his friends by trying to take Thor away from him. He still regrets he broke only _two_ of the idiot’s fingers. 

“I can take care of myself.” Loki shrugs, his lips curving into a wolfish grin.

It is eerie how he can actually see the scowl of Thor’s face. Despite his current form.

Thor hops from the table onto the armchair. He says nothing, merely looks at Loki. Loki sighs and kneels down on the ground so they can be at eye’s level with each other.

“I mean it, Loki.” Thor says, and now there is that old note of stubborn, unyielding determination in his voice which Loki found exasperating when Thor still looked human, but now it makes his heart skip a beat. He had missed his friend’s easy, outgoing, even somewhat arrogant demeanor. Since the curse Thor was slowly descending into melancholy. Understandable, given the circumstances, but it still made Loki’s heart ache. “We tried. Now it’s time to give up.”

Loki’s chest tightens in panic, his mind working frantically. “Perhaps if I take your photo next time.” He tries, the note of desperation seeping into his voice. “If they see how hot you really look, they might consider it worth their time.” 

“So you think I’m hot?” Thor says, and Loki can _see_ the smirk in the glint of his eyes.

“Thor, now is really not the time.” Loki snaps, exasperated. “This is serious. You could stay like this forever if we do nothing.”

Loki snaps his mouth shut; his teeth clicking loudly. He wishes he could take the words back, to make them disappear. He knows the power of words, fears that giving them shape will make them true. 

“Perhaps it’s what I deserve.” Thor says after a moment of silence.

Loki’s eyes widen and he pushes himself to his feet, his breath burning in his throat.

“Don’t say that.” He croaks, his voice sounding less human than Thor’s. “Don’t _ever_ say that again.”

“Why not? If I weren't a jerk, she would never curse me.”

Loki wishes Thor would turn into a man for a second. This second. Just so he could wring his neck for being a dramatic fool.

“And you think a drunken one-night stand is enough to merit this kind of a response?”

“It hardly matters what I think.”

“And what about me?” Loki cries, his voice shaking. Loki can feel tears - of frustration and helplessness - welling inside his eyes and he hates how weak it makes him seem. Hates the ache inside him. The longing to once again feel Thor’s fingers sliding through his hair, mussing it up. To feel the warmth of his skin on the back of his neck. 

Thor cocks his head, and it is such a familiar gesture, even now, it makes Loki want to howl in frustration.

“What about you?” Thor asks, softly.

Loki could lie now, or deflect the question with a joke, but when he opens his mouth, it is truth which leaves his lips.

“I miss you.” Loki mutters. “The real you.”

“Very well, then.” Thor sighs, hopping once again on the table. “But if you ever come close to starting a fight again, I’m done. Deal?”

Loki’s mouth stretches into a wide, relieved smile. “Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Can we skip going out tonight?”

Loki’s hands go still where they are busy slicking his hair back. He had honestly believed they are past this. Loki is not a fool; he is aware that his plan has more holes than a swiss cheese, but it is - for the moment - the only plan they have. It is not much, but certainly better than waiting and hoping for a miracle.

Taking a deep breath Loki lowers his hands by his sides, forcing himself to relax. But when he turns to face Thor - currently sitting atop his dryer - there is a weight in the pit of his stomach which stubbornly refuses to disappear.

“I thought we had a deal.” Loki says, keeping his voice as calm as he can manage. “And your photo helped the last time. Why would-”

“I’m not trying to go back on my word.” Thor interrupts him, mildly. “I’m simply tired.”

Loki opens his mouth, ready to argue, but then he takes a closer look of Thor. He never actually thought a frog could look tired - well, opportunity for closer study never actually arose - but Thor does look tired; his usually golden skin now looks dull and listless.

Loki exhales, deeply, his heart twisting guiltily. Since the curse, Loki was so focused on the future and restoring Thor to his human form, having him _back_ , he forgot about the present.

He forgot that no matter the outer appearance, Thor - the boy who smiled at him with a bright, dazzling smile the first time they met - is still inside.

His best friend is going through hell, and the last thing he needs is Loki’s selfishness. 

“Okay, then. We stay the night.” Loki says and offers Thor his hand. Thor hops on his palm readily. “Did you have something in mind?”

Loki cannot be certain if he sees what he thinks he sees, but Thor - somehow - actually smiles. 

***

“I still think the movies are overrated.” Loki grumbles, taking another popcorn and popping it into his mouth. 

Thor, sitting on his shoulder, snorts. “That’s only because you’re a cynic.”

“I prefer realist.” Loki objects, swallowing a sigh when, on the screen, hyperdrive on Millennium Falcon malfunctions yet again. Then, frowning, he glances at Thor. “And what does my outlook have to do with my opinion of the movies?”

Thor stays silent a moment, then he hops from Loki’s shoulder onto his chest. If he were still a man, his eyebrow would be arched, and the fool would be, most certainly, grinning.

“You never think anything is worthwhile if it doesn’t involve suffering.” Thor points out. “I bet if Lucas killed Luke in the end, you’d think better of the movies.”

“I resent that. Needlessly killing a character can make matters worse, not better. And I know how the film industry works. And so did Lucas. Despite him being an overgrown boy, he’d made Star Wars to earn money. And killing a main character is bad for business.” Shrugging, Loki adds: “Besides, I never cared much for Luke. Too boring.” 

“I used to think he was naive and overzealous.” Thor says, thoughtful. “Now I think he was reckless, selfish and an ungrateful brat.”

Loki’s mouth goes dry all of a sudden, the heat and force in Thor’s voice making alarm bells sound inside Loki’s mind. 

“He only wanted to see the world.” Loki says in a low, careful voice. “To live. You cannot resent him for that.”

Thor is a frog, but the view doesn't make Loki cringe or frown. It never did. Not even in the beginning. Especially since Thor’s eyes have stayed the same. And currently, there is far, _far_ too much grief and self-loathing in them for Loki’s peace of mind. 

And heart.

“Well, he did get what he wished for.” Thor says after a moment, his voice cold and hard. Bitter. Hopping back on Loki’s shoulder, he adds, his voice no more than a whisper: “Even if others had to die for it.”

The rest of the movies they spend watching in weighted silence, while a decision consolidates inside Loki’s mind.

He keeps it to himself, though. He sincerely doubts Thor will take kindly to Loki going to see the witch who cursed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Loki sets his mind to it, it is not as difficult as he feared it would be to find the one responsible for Thor’s current state.

The search itself involves a lot of phone calls, and, thankfully, only one meeting at the coffee shop in the vicinity of the college. It is somewhat a chore to temper his caustic tongue during some of the conversations, but Loki manages to hold himself in check. 

Thor’s future is no small incentive.

Somehow - not a trifling matter, considering Thor is living with him now - Loki even manages to keep his activity hidden from Thor. Loki rouses Thor’s suspicion and concern only once, when he fails to notice that Thor has entered his bedroom where he’d left to answer the call from a friend of a friend of Thor’s ex-girlfriend Sif, who had been the one to introduce Thor and Amora. Entire process would have been easier and shorter if there were a possibility of Loki directly contacting Sif, but their relationship would be best described as mutual loathing. 

“Is something the matter?” Thor asks when Loki finishes the conversation and turns around.

For a brief moment, Loki’s mind blanks out, his mouth going dry. He grips his cell with desperate fingers, silently rewinding what he’d said and trying to recall just how incriminating his words have been.

When his mind offers nothing of substance, Loki decides that an outright lie is the best course of action.

Hoping that his face looks sufficiently innocent, Loki shrugs. “Just someone I promised the notes from the Russian literature class.” 

It is still a marvel to Loki how easily he can read Thor’s facial expressions in his current form. But Thor has ever been easy going and open. Never finding it necessary to hide his emotions.

“A true Christmas miracle.” Thor says, softly, and Loki feels an almost visceral need to see Thor’s face again, to see him smile at him. “Who are you and what have you done with Loki who said he would rather eat his notes than share them with those too lazy to actually pay attention during lectures?” 

“It’s two months until Christmas.” Loki says, dumbly, his heart rate not yet slowing down to its normal speed. “And every rule suffers at least one exception.”

Thor eyes him silently, and Loki feels exposed, as if what he is doing is written plainly on his face. 

When Thor snorts, and turns to leave, Loki waits until Thor is away to release a deep breath, his fingers shaking as he brings them up to rub at his face.

He is not doing anything wrong, he only means to help, so why does he feel like if he is betraying Thor’s trust and friendship?

***

The small, silver doorbell chimes softly when the doors to the shop click shut after Loki. 

Loki remains standing awkwardly by the entrance, eying the interior of the shop with widening gaze, hope deflating in his chest. 

The interior of the shop is clean and bright, he can even smell the soft, unobtrusive scent of lavender. It’s... not what Loki expected to see. He fishes the folded paper with the witch's address from his coat pocket and checks it once again. 

It is the right address, but this shop is decidedly not what Loki expected to see. The shelves are full of small, fragile crystalline figures, picture frames, candlesticks... all the items one would expect to see in an average gift shop.

Loki takes another look of the address before putting it back into his pocket, cursing his own stupidity inwardly. This is not a movie or a story, but real life - no matter how surreal - and it seems Loki is not above media-based stereotypes. 

Stepping away from the door, Loki checks the counter, but finds it empty. He frowns, but then decides that someone who can turn men into frogs, surely can monitor an empty shop from afar.

Which, as it seems, means Loki is in for a wait.

Turning, he walks absentmindedly toward the nearest shelf. The figurines are quite beautiful - made of colored crystal, shaped to match the astrology signs. Loki swallows a snort at the sight of the Scorpio one - its colour changing according to the lightening from dark, rich green to pitch black. It does look quite intimidating and ominous. Even vicious. Not unlike people tend to describe _him_. But Loki has never cared for the rubbish they call astrology.

But then his eyes catch sight of a lion - shining and golden, its head thrown back in an imitation of a roar, looking magnificent and proud, and Loki cannot stop himself from reaching after it. His lips twitch faintly, his fingertips brushing lightly against the smooth, cold surface. 

“It took you longer than I thought it would to come here.”

The voice startles Loki and he almost drops the figurine, but he catches himself in time, taking more time than necessary to put it back on the shelf, forcing himself to calm.

When he deigns himself sufficiently calm to meet Amora’s gaze without flinching, Loki turns.

She is standing a few steps away, dressed in a simple green dress, her blond hair drawn back in a simple ponytail. Loki’s teeth grit instinctively. It is not difficult to see what drew Thor to her - she is, without a doubt, beautiful. But there is nothing beautiful, nor warm or gentle in the twinkle of her blue eyes as they rake over Loki’s form.

And suddenly Loki is certain that he knows how a mouse feels when caught in the claws of a cat.

“You expected me?” Loki asks, simply to break the tense silence and gain at least some of the ground he lost by no effort of Amora's but her mere appearance.

She snorts - a sonorous sound of pure disdain. “Of course, you could always be here to make a purchase.” Her lips curve into a smirk which is nothing short of malicious. “A nice rock perhaps? For your friend to perch on?”

Loki swallows a growl, managing to stop himself from doing or saying something stupid. But only just.

“You know why I’m here.” He forces through clenched teeth.

“Then, please,” she gestures toward the door in the back of the shop. “Step into my office.”

She doesn't wait for him, merely turns on her heel and walks away, leaving Loki no choice but to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

When Loki closes the door to Amora’s office, his fingers linger briefly on the handle. It is not exactly fear which is currently twisting in the pit of his stomach, but Loki finds himself incapable of shrugging off a rather unsettling thought that his life is about to take a turn for the worse. 

Or it could simply be that his imagination is running wild - almost as wild as his heart - confusing reality for a horror movie. But, in the end, it does not even matter. He is here now, and he is not leaving until he makes Amora restore Thor.

Only, a small voice inside his mind chimes unhelpfully, he has no leverage here. Nothing to bargain with. He is behaving recklessly and without anything resembling a plan. Actually, he is doing a rather splendid job of imitating Thor at his worst.

But Thor would have done the same for him. No matter the risks. Only difference being, Thor would have done this the same day the curse had been cast. He would not have waited for months.

Turning around, Loki takes a cursory glance of the office - small, but not crowded. White walls make the office look bright despite the lack of windows. The walls are empty, as is the desk which is taking up most of the space; only a phone, sleek, silver monitor and a matching keyboard are occupying its surface, made of polished wood and painted black.

“You seem surprised.” Amora notes, sounding amused, already sitting in the black, leather chair on the other side of the desk. “What did you expect? Raven wings and chicken bones?” She pauses, arching an eyebrow, her voice dropping down to a velvety soft whisper. “ _Frog_ eyes, perhaps?”

Loki’s vision flashes red for a brief moment. He is not usually on this side of being mocked, and the experience is decidedly not to his taste. But it is not like he has any choice in the matter. His wounded pride is but a small price to be paid for Thor’s future.

Only, Loki suspects as he takes up the seat opposite to Amora’s, his pride could very well be only the beginning.

“It does seem rather ordinary.” Loki says, keeping his tone carefully blank. But he cannot stop himself from adding: “For a witch’s lair.”

“Change and evolution. Adaptation.” Amora shrugs, nonplussed. “There are not many stakes burning lately, but to be different is possibly the gravest crime anyone can commit in today’s society.”

“Turning men into frogs is hardly what anyone would call keeping a low profile.”

Amora stays silent a moment, the corner of her mouth lifting slowly into a grin. “Oh, that? That is calculated risk.” She leans forward in her chair, her eyes holding Loki’s almost hypnotically. “Tell me, Loki, what is the point of having power if you don’t use it for anything... well, _fun_?”

Loki’s fingers curl into fists in his lap, and he has to count to ten to be certain that the next words to come out of his mouth won’t seal his _or_ Thor’s fate.

“And how long until the novelty wears off?” Loki asks, concentrating on nothing but his next breath. It provides him with nothing resembling a plan on how to make Amora lift the curse off Thor, but it does help in keeping him from trying to wring her neck. “How long until you find something else to entertain you?”

Amora leans back, her eyes studying Loki’s eyes with an unsettling intensity. The low, amused chuckle which follows her inspection feels like a slap to the face.

“Speaking of entertainment.” Amora drawls in an almost bored voice, but there is something cold and calculating in her gaze, which does nothing to calm Loki’s already erratic heartbeat. “How long do you intend to keep up with that ridiculously sentimental notion of a true love’s kiss restoring your friend?”

 _What?!_

Loki blinks, his mind frozen in panic for a moment, before it becomes flooded with a dozen upon dozen scenarios; each more surreal than the previous. Each making Loki’s heart heavy with dread. 

“What- How do you know about it?” Loki asks, carefully. He doesn’t even think about denying it. She doesn’t seem bothered by what they have been doing. If she were, Loki suspects, she would have probably done something to stop them.

Amora’s eyebrows shoot up in an expression which clearly states how little she thinks of Loki’s intelligence. Loki’s face draws into a grimace, and he curses himself inwardly - if he were as cruel and powerful enough to turn someone into a frog, he would also make sure to enjoy the show.

“You don’t honestly believe it will work?” The patronizing tone of her voice feels like scratching of claws against his heart. When it first occurred to him, Loki had been aware of the absurdity of the idea. But the thought of Thor forever trapped in the form of a frog, was not something Loki had been prepared to deal with. So he made Thor face laughter, disgust and morbid curiosity on a daily basis solely so _he_ would not go insane with helplessness and frustration.

Loki’s eyes squeeze shut, bile rising in his throat and filling his mouth. He didn't even realize up until now, how selfish and inconsiderate he has been.

Laughter - low, amused and oh so very cold - drags Loki back to the present. 

“This is not a Disney movie, Loki.” Amora says when she stops laughing, her teeth flashing white as her grin widens. Each word feels like a stab at Loki’s chest, and Loki cannot tell what hurts more - guilt or disappointment. “And even if it were, you honestly believe that a stranger’s kiss would have an effect?”

“It hardly matters now.” Loki manages to say, his throat burning with the swell of emotions inside. “Since it was doomed to fail from the start.”

“And what about you?”

Loki blinks, uncertain and alarmed. “What about me?”

“I won’t lie, Thor is a pleasure to look at, and especially to _touch_. He is also not exactly a monk.” Amora says, making Loki’s jaw clench to the point of breaking. He knows they had been lovers, it’s what instigated this entire mess, but, suddenly, the mention of her hands on Thor feels like a challenge. “But as far as I know, _you_ are the one he values the most.”

“What are you implying?” Loki asks, voice no more than a whisper. 

“Why haven’t _you_ kissed him? It’s obvious you love him.”

And that is. _It_. Witch or no, Loki sees red, and any semblance of control leaves him. Loki is not even aware he thought of moving, but suddenly, he finds himself on the other side of the desk, his fingers digging bruises into Amora’s elbows.

“I’ve had just about enough of you.” Loki hisses. “If you don’t-”

But that is all he manages to say before she whispers something - a single word, in a language Loki has never heard - and he suddenly finds himself on his knees on the ground, gasping for breath.

Loki stays on his knees, taking greedy gulps of air, a small, shrill voice inside his head screaming at him.

Screaming the word idiot. 

“Can we move on with our conversation, or do you need another reminder who actually holds the power here?”

Loki takes another deep breath, his fingers shaking as he braces himself against the floor. When he lifts his gaze, she is regarding him with cold, hard eyes. It sends a shiver of dread down Loki’s spine.

He doesn’t have any power here, no leverage, but there must be something she wants from him. If not, he would not be here anymore.

Shakily, Loki nods, and Amora’s face lights up with false cheer. 

“I always knew you were the smarter of the two.”

Slowly, Loki rises to his feet, glancing at her warily. Her words still echo inside Loki’s mind, but he ignores them. Let her say what she will, it’s not like she isn't only toying with him.

But for some reason, Loki feels as if there is something he is missing; something he is purposely ignoring. The truth remains, though, one of them is the liar here, even if Loki is not entirely certain it is Amora.

With a tight smile, Loki tilts his head. “You may have proven a point, but those stakes you mentioned earlier could alway be lit anew.”

“And then again, I could alway be wrong.” Amora sighs. But she doesn’t seem angry as she tilts her head to the side, her eyes resting on Loki’s. “I’ll do you a favor, darling, and explain the situation. But first, sit down.”

It’s not a suggestion, and even if it pains him, Loki obeys. 

Amora doesn’t go back to where she had been sitting, opting instead to lean against the desk. It places her way too close to Loki and also forces Loki to look up to meet her eyes.

“When I mentioned how witches survive in the modern world, I have left one word out. Trade.” Pausing, Amora leans fractionally, her fingers brushing against Loki’s cheek. Loki has to force himself not to flinch. “There are some powerful people in this country who would not be as powerful if not for me.” She drags her fingers down to Loki’s mouth, and Loki feels an almost visceral need to bite. But his disgust is not half as bad as the dawning realization that he is utterly without a weapon here - there is nothing that is left to him, no plea, no threat that will make her change Thor back. “So when I misbehave, provided I keep it moderate, they tend to look the other way.” 

When she pulls her hand away, Loki allows his head to sag, his entire body feeling hollow and drained of strength. She could be bluffing, but Loki knows she isn't. 

“What has Thor done to you to deserve what you've done to him?” Loki asks when he gathers enough will to speak. His voice is dull and listless as the rest of him, the words spilling from his lips almost without his conscious thought. “It can’t be only the fact that he left you after you slept together.”

Amora’s face hardens, her eyes flashing with fury, and if Loki could summon enough strength to care, he would be probably trying to appease her right now. Or fearing for his life. As it is, he merely holds her gaze, waiting.

She doesn’t attack him, but the wide, sharp grin on her face and an almost triumphant gleam in her eyes somehow seem even more dangerous.

“You should not bother yourself with what he's done. You should be more interested in what you can do to fix it.”

For a moment Loki is certain he heard her wrong. He waits a beat, two, three; trying to calm his breathing and the sudden flicker of hope rising in the hollow of his chest.

“What could I possibly do to restore Thor?” Loki asks, unable to mask the tremor in his voice.

“Only one small thing.” Amora whispers, her eyes glinting with malice and dark joy, making Loki feel like his entire body is submersed in ice-cold water. “Break his heart.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Loki leaves Amora’s shop, he doesn’t head back to where his car is parked. It’s not even an entirely conscious decision, considering his mind is skipping from utter chaos to utter blankness every few seconds.

He ends up walking the streets aimlessly, completely unaware of the harshness and chill of the October wind. It’s not until he starts shivering that he even notices his coat is unbuttoned. 

Loki re-buttons the coat with shaky, uncertain fingers. He feels... and that is the real issue, he has no idea _what_ he feels, only that he feels too much.

Amora’s words swirl and twist inside his mind, each of his steps followed by an echo of her voice.

A step.

_He loves you._

Another step.

_You love him._

And another.

_Break his heart._

Again and again and again, in a continuous loop until Loki is certain his mind will break. 

Loki did nothing to argue Amora’s statements. No matter how ludicrous they seemed. Merely sat in her office dumbly, listening to her cold, bushiness-like voice as she explained her terms - she would restore Thor, but Loki has to cut him out of his life. No reason, no explanation. Simply drive Thor away. And _keep_ him away.

Loki only stared at Amora when she finished, utterly at a loss for words, unable to feel angry or disgusted by her words, only horrified. She smiled then, a look of false pity twinkling in her eyes. 

_“Oh dear. You never had a clue, did you? How very sweet. And tragic. Almost like a real fairytale.”_

Amora’s words seemed ludicrous when Loki listened to them - they are friends, best friends, and she was with Thor for about three weeks, what could she possibly know about what they share - but they don’t seem ludicrous now.

Not the part about Thor loving him. Loki knows Thor loves him, but he also knows he is not _in love_ with him. Thor would have never been able to keep it a secret from Loki. Unlike Loki, Thor has always been too damn earnest for his own good. And lacking patience and self-restraint to keep a secret of such magnitude.

It’s the second part that is making Loki feel as if his entire world has been turned upside-down. As if he had been walking blindly his entire life and now he is forced to see. 

Oh, he could try to rationalize what he’s feeling. He might even convince himself he’s not head over heels in love with his best friend. But he finds himself unwilling to even try. 

What would be the point of lying to himself now? 

It wouldn't change the fact that Thor is a frog. It wouldn't change the fact that Loki can return his life back to him. And it certainly wouldn't change the fact that his heart aches in a way Loki has never felt before. 

Loki cannot recall when he wandered into a park, but the sight of empty, abandoned benches coaxes a sharp bark of laugher out of Loki’s throat. A fitting metaphor for his future if he ever saw one.

Sighing, Loki sags onto one of the benches, lowering his face into his hands. He cannot yet return home. He is nowhere near ready for what he needs to do. And even if Amora is wrong about the nature of Thor’s feelings for Loki, Loki knows he will hurt Thor. Hurt him _badly_.

Loki cannot think of the present - too painful, too confusing - and he knows that future only means even more heartache, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He remembers.

He is four, and he is learning not to fear the silence of his room.

He is five, and the silence of his room no longer bothers him, when there are worlds - bright and scary and wonderful - to be found in books. 

He is six, and he knows there should be something in his father’s eyes besides impatience.

He is seven, and he prizes the company of the characters from his books over that of loud and stupid children he is forced to interact with. 

He is eight, and there is this boy with the most ridiculous blue eyes Loki has ever seen, _smiling_ at him from the seat next to his in school. Even after Loki pushes him off the chair. He continues smiling the entire day. His name is stupid. 

He is nine, and he is trying to convince Thor that he’s only going to get beaten if he tries to confront Eric, who is four years older and way stronger than Thor, and make him return Loki his book. Thor doesn’t listen, and appears with a bloody lip, torn shirt and Loki’s book the next day. 

He is ten, and he desperately wants Thor to be his brother. Then, they would share a room and they would never have to part. And Frigga, with her gentle and warm eyes would call him son. Even Odin, who looks at Loki with stern gaze - which is still gentler than the one in his father’s eyes - would then look at him the way he looks at Thor.

He is eleven, and he cannot understand why the sight of Sif angers him so much. It’s not like she is trying to steal Thor away from him. Thor is not Loki’s. He never admits to anyone that he’d been the one to pour bleach in Sif’s shampoo bottle on a class trip.

He is fifteen, and his throat is strangely dry and his heart cannot seem to remember to beat when he walks in on Thor stepping out of the shower, naked and wet.

He is eighteen, and he is standing in the shadows while people around him dance and laugh, his jaw clenching tightly, as he watches Thor and Sif coming down the stairs, disheveled and flushed and smiling wide.

He is twenty-three, and he is sitting in an empty park, wondering how he’d managed to be so fucking blind his entire life. When it’s so painfully obvious to him now that he’s been in love with Thor ever since he pushed him off the chair that first day. 

Now, when it is too late. Too fucking late.

Lifting his head, Loki fishes his cell out of his coat pocket. It takes him a while to find the right name. She answers after three rings, confusion evident in her voice. Not really a surprise, since Loki never bothered to mask his dislike of her when Thor and Jane were dating. 

“I need you to do me a favor. Are you free later today?


	6. Chapter 6

“Is everything all right, dear? You haven’t lost your keys, have you?” Mrs. Johnson asks, her face drawn up in both concern and curiosity when she finds Loki staring at the door to his apartment. “It happens to me all the time. Well, just last-”

“No, everything is fine.” Loki cuts her off, his voice harsher than he intended. He knows her well enough to know that if he allows it, he will have to listen through half an hour of her tale about lost keys, the tale ending, as it always does, with an invitation for tea. Loki was unfortunate enough to actually end up in her apartment one time, drinking said tea. It was entirely Thor’s fault, even if Loki all but kicked him to stop him from accepting the invitation, but it was Loki who, for some unfathomable reason, Mrs. Johnson deemed appropriate for her niece. Thor - the bastard - only made it worse by going on and on about how smart and talented Loki is, but yes, it is truly shame he is living all alone in that big apartment. “Really.” Loki adds in a softer tone of voice.

“Are you certain?” She asks, now looking genuinely worried. “You seem upset.”

Loki swallows, forcing his lips into what he hopes passes as a reassuring smile. But the smile is nothing but an illusion, while inside his heart twists with apprehension and his stomach sinks with dread. How is he going to fool Thor, who has known him almost his entire life, if he cannot seem to fool a batty old lady who only sees him every week or so in passing? 

But he has to, he has no choice in the matter. He has to give the performance of his life if he is to return Thor his life back.

And ruin his own in the process.

“No, I’m just tired.” Loki says, hoping it will be enough to sate her curiosity. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that dear.” She says, and pats him on the cheek. “You’re too young to suffer from insomnia. It’s for us old people who don’t have as much obligations as you young people do.” She pauses, her face lighting up in hope. “Do you want to come over for a cup of chamomile tea? It always helps me sleep better.”

It is a testament to how much he dreads entering his apartment and facing Thor, that he actually considers taking her up on her offer. But procrastinating won’t solve the surreal mess his life has turned into. This situation won’t simply go away if Loki waits long enough, pretending that everything will magically sort itself out.

Loki knows exactly how he should proceed - go inside, be a cold-hearted bastard, and stay calm and unperturbed in the face of Thor’s reaction. Whatever form it takes. 

Simple, like ripping off a bandaid. Simple... if only he could find enough strength and courage to open the door and enter his apartment, and not stare blankly at it like he had been doing for the last fifteen minutes. 

“No, thank you.” Loki smiles. “Perhaps some other time.”

“Oh. Very well then.” She says, and Loki actually feels bad about the way her face falls in disappointment. “Give my love to that blond friend of yours. I haven’t seen him here in a while now. He is not ill, is he? He is such a good boy.”

Loki swallows, his chest tightening in a manner which is all but comfortable.

“Thor has been feeling a little under the weather lately, but he will be fine.”

 _I will make certain of it._

“I’m happy to hear that.” She says, patting Loki one last time against the cheek. “He is good for you. You rarely smile when he is not around. Have a good day, dear.”

To that, Loki has no idea what to say. So he merely stands silently, with his eyes wide, staring at her back as she slowly goes up the stairs.

Then, when she is out of his sight, Loki exhales deeply and fishes the keys out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers to no one but empty air as he unlocks the door.

***

Loki barely makes it a step into his apartment when he is greeted by the sight of a very flustered, and very worried Thor, sitting on top of a coat rack. 

For a moment, Loki stays frozen in the doorway, his fingers still clutching the door handle. All other thought flees his mind, his face slowly drawing into a frown as he tries to think of a way Thor managed to get up to where he is.

By a mix of unending stubbornness and optimism, probably. As is the case with everything Thor does.

“Where were you all day?” Thor demands, sounding worried, hurt and angry all at once.

 _This is it. There is no backing out now._

Closing the door, Loki offers Thor a blank look. “Out.” He says, and without taking his coat off, he strides into the living room without waiting for Thor’s reaction.

Loki has never been what anyone would call a kind person, and he rarely felt bad about employing his sharp wit and caustic humor in his dealings with other people. 

But Thor is not other people, and Loki has never wanted to hurt _him_. Inadvertently, let alone deliberately. 

Loki is folding his coat over a chair, when Thor appears, hopping directly onto the large table in the middle of the living room.

“What has crawled up your ass?” Thor asks, and now it’s confusion Loki hears in his voice. Confusion and hurt. No anger.

Loki tilts his head, studying Thor in silence. Then, when Thor’s face - and damn it all to hell, but it doesn’t matter that Thor is a frog, Loki can still see his best friend’s face - only grows more confused, Loki releases an impatient sigh, and strides over toward the small kitchenette, adjoined to the living room. Taking a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge, he pours himself a glass.

“Loki?” Thor asks after a moment; the sound of his voice - disconcerted, and so very vulnerable - sinking deep into Loki’s chest; its echo tearing a piece of Loki’s heart. “What’s wrong?” 

Downing the water, Loki uses the pretense of washing the glass to turn his back on Thor. He almost drops the glass a few times, his fingers shaking wildly. He shuts his eyes, and clenches his teeth, trying to get himself under control. 

“This is not working anymore, Thor.” Loki announces coolly, turning to face Thor. He doesn’t move closer to Thor, remains standing by the sink. “I’m sorry.” He adds, but his voice doesn’t convey the emotion in question.

Thor hops closer to the edge of the table, then, after a moment of indecision, remains where he is, looking at Loki with growing alarm. From his first day as a frog, his size was one of the things Thor resented the most; he hated having to look up at everyone, that is why Loki always took special care to be seated when in Thor’s company. But lately, Thor had been spending most of his time on Loki’s shoulder, so it didn't matter anymore. 

“What is not working?” 

“This. Us.” Loki offers, his voice void of even a semblance of a feeling. “I don’t think it’s good for either of us to spend so much time in each other’s company. It was fun while we were kids, but we are not children anymore.”

Thor looks as if Loki had hit him - staring at Loki with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Why are you saying this? What happened today?” Thor asks, urgent and almost panicked. “Where were you?”

“It’s not something that happened today, Thor.” Loki says, his voice cold and hard. He feels strangely disconnected from himself; like he is standing on the sidelines, watching someone else, someone with his own face, saying things he would never say to Thor. Things Loki would never even think. “It has been building for years. We... well, _you_ are not exactly the kind of company I can afford to keep, to be honest.”

Thor doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he hops down from the table and proceeds to hop toward Loki, until he is standing a mere foot in front of him.

“That’s bullshit, Loki.” Thor states, firmly, but there is a slight tremor in his voice. “I _know_ you. I know you don’t mean this. What I don’t know is why you’re saying all this. But if you tell me the truth, maybe I could help you.”

Loki snorts in disdain. “Help me? Look at you. All you can do is create a mess and then hope daddy’s money and influence will be enough to get you out of it.” 

Thor winces, looking devastated. Loki ignores it, his lips curving up into an ugly parody of a smile. “Have you even an idea what to do with your life? You don’t care about finishing college. You've been almost expelled because you made a drunken wager and broke into dean’s office, and then you've made another one the day after you were allowed to stay.” Pausing, Loki shrugs. “But why should you? It’s not like you have to worry about anything as mundane as paying the bills.”

“Is that how you think of me? A spoiled, reckless and arrogant brat?” Thor asks after a moment of weighted silence. Then, in a softer, self-deprecating voice: “Perhaps you’re right. But I have never been anything but your friend.”

Loki stays silent a moment, his outward mask of indifference holding, but his self-control starts to slip. He needs to finish this. The longer he allows this conversation to last, the weaker his resolve becomes, and he is less and less immune to the cruelty of his words and the effect they have on Thor. 

“There is no need to be dramatic, Thor.” Loki says finally. “It’s not like we are married or anything. People drift apart all the time.”

“Since you know all the answers, tell me, then, Loki, how should I act?” Thor says, sounding bitter for the first time. “This is the first time I’m losing a best friend. I’m not exactly in familiar waters here.” 

“I’m certain you’ll find someone to replace me in no time.”

Thor looks at him a long moment and there is nothing but sadness in his eyes. 

“If you honestly believe _that_ , then I have already lost my best friend.” Thor says, sounding defeated. “Or is it even worse? Have you even considered yourself my best friend?”

Loki almost cracks then. This is what he’d wanted to accomplish, what he’d promised to do, but now, faced with losing Thor, Loki panics. He opens his mouth, but before he can do something idiotic, doorbell rings.

Releasing a shaky breath, Loki almost runs to open the door. 

“Hi.” Jane says, looking awkward, but trying to cover it up with a smile. “I hope I’m not late.”

“No, no.” Loki breathes out the words. His heart is racing wildly, and his hands are shaking with how close he’d come to ruin everything. “You’re right on time. Come in, please.”

Jane still looks decidedly nervous when she steps past Loki into the apartment.

“So. Loki. I’m sure you can understand my- _Thor_.” 

“Hello, Jane.” Thor greets her softly, but his eyes - bitter and hard - don’t stray from Loki’s face. “Clever, clever Loki. You do think of everything, don’t you?”

Loki swallows, barely managing to keep his face impassive. Not many people knew about Thor’s current situation. Jane was one of the few. It was one of the reasons why Loki called her instead of Frigga.

Jane looks from Thor to Loki, then back again, a frown creasing her forehead.

“I thought you went home after the,” Jane says, smiling nervously. “The incident.”

“That was the initial plan. I was given a better offer.” Thor says, his eyes darkening. “Or so I believed at the time.”

Loki’s fingers curl into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He really needs to end this before it escalates further.

Squaring his shoulders, Loki turns to look at Jane. “I need you to take Thor.” He says simply. Her eyes widen in confusion, but it is the harsh sound of an indrawn breath which makes Loki’s breath hitch in his throat. “Can you?”

“I- well, yes, but-”

“Fine, then we have an agreement.” Loki cuts her off, his voice steady, but only just. Then, and despite what he had said to Thor only a few moments prior, turning to look Thor in the eyes is the hardest thing Loki had to do in this life. “Will you go with her?”

Thor’s eyes hold his but there is nothing of warmth or affection he used to regard Loki with in them. His eyes are cold, hardened by anger and hurt.

“Of course I’ll go with her.” Thor says, the tone of his voice colder than ice. Harsher than the wind howling outside. “Right now, I would rather go with a French chef than stay here.” 

“It’s settled then.” Loki says, nodding. He doesn’t chance a smile, he is not certain how is he even able to stand straight with the feelings currently turning his chest into a bloody, wrecked mess. Loki hesitates a moment; the word heavy and bitter on his tongue, but, in the end, he manages to force it past his lips. “Goodbye.” 

Then, without another word, he turns and leaves Thor and Jane standing behind. 

Loki all but runs away, managing to draw breath only when he shuts the door of his bedroom behind himself, leaning heavily against it. His heart is beating wildly and he cannot stop himself from shaking; a lone thought echoing loudly inside his mind.

_He hates you now... he hates you now... hates you now...hates you... hates..._

Loki squeezes his eyes shut, taking shuddering breaths, a selfish part of him hoping to hear Thor’s voice calling his name, asking for an explanation. And Loki... Loki is not entirely certain he wouldn't cave in and reveal all to Thor, begging his forgiveness.

But it doesn’t happen, the sound of door closing announcing Thor’s departure from Loki’s apartment.

And Loki’s life. 

Loki swallows a sob, suppressing the urge to walk over to the window so he could watch them leave. He doesn’t need to see Jane holding Thor. There is only so much he can take in one day. 

Loki waits a moment. Then, gaining a semblance of control, he walks back into the living room and picks up his cell.

She answers after only two rings, much to Loki’s surprise. He had been expecting her to toy with him some.

“I have done my part. Now it’s time for you to do yours.” Loki doesn’t wait for Amora’s answer, he ends the call, but he still manages to hear the beginning of a low, triumphant chuckle.

Loki stares at the phone in his hand for a moment, then, with a cry of rage and despair, he flings it against the nearest wall, sagging down onto his knees and burying his face into his hands.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, moving his cell a fraction away from his ear, waiting. And waiting. And then waiting some more. When the volume and the shrill intensity of Darcy’s voice dies down on the other side, he tries again. “No, I am not avoiding you.” Not exactly a lie, that. This last week, Loki has not been avoiding Darcy specifically, he has been doing his damnedest to avoid _everyone_.

It’s decidedly the wrong thing to say, considering the volume of her voice skyrockets again. Loki tries to wait it out, but he has a class in fifteen minutes, and his fingers are starting to go numb from the cold. 

“Look, I already told you.” Loki cuts her off, using the tone of voice which he had perfected over the years, the kind that works equally as efficient on authority figures and brainless bullies. Only two people so far have been immune to it. Unfortunately, Darcy is one of them. The other... well, _he_ is not an issue anymore, is he? Loki had burned and salted that particular ground quite successfully. 

Loki shuts his eyes for a moment, forcefully stopping his thoughts from straying toward what happened a week ago. He knows what awaits him on the end of that road - pain, guilt and shame. It still makes him almost physically ill when he recalls the things he said. His own words were bad enough, making him feel like the shittiest person to ever walk the face of earth. But the look in Thor’s eyes... that is something Loki cannot bear to think about. He cannot _afford_ himself to think about it. He has obligations and ambitions, and an entire future all planned out, and there is no place in his plans for giving his best impersonation of Kristen Stewart in that damn vampire movie Darcy made him watch when he’d lost a bet. 

“I had to buy another phone. No, the last one- no, I can’t give it you; I know you liked it...it doesn't work anymore.” It would be nothing short of a miracle if it did work, considering it shattered into a dozen small pieces after Loki threw it against a wall. “No, I am not being a selfish jackass. Oh, for fucks’s sake not this again- well, think about it this way - if I were avoiding you, would I give you _this_ number?”

Loki is taken aback when his last argument actually shuts Darcy up for a moment, making it possible for him to end the call, but not before agreeing to meet her for a study session tomorrow. 

Pocketing his cell, Loki takes a glance of his watch. He has five minutes until the class starts. Enough time for him to go inside and take a seat in the back, far away from Fury’s stern eyes. Not to mention that his fingers are taking on an alarming shade of blue.

But still, Loki cannot make himself go inside yet, his eyes darting across the courtyard; his heart twisting with both anticipation and dread as he searches for the familiar blond head among the crowd of students. 

Loki has yet to see Thor, but the rumors of the Mighty Thor’s - his nickname as the captain of the football team; nickname of Loki’s making, not that he’d ever bothered to share that particular fact with Thor - return have spread across the campus like wildfire.

The stories concerning the reason behind Thor’s sudden disappearance, which have dwindled after the first month, have now exploded anew. Some were quite mundane, mentioning family problems or some grave illness, but some strayed into soap opera territory with talks of broken hearts and Thor becoming a father. There were even some speculations about Thor ending up in prison after beating up a guy in a club in a fit of rage. 

And yet, none of the stories was quite as hilarious and tragic, even downright surreal as the truth.

Grimacing, Loki tears his eyes away from the courtyard, glancing at his clock. Only one minute. There is no way he will make it on time now. Unlike other professors, Nick Fury was never late for his classes. It gave him the satisfaction of verbally flaying his students as they walked red-faced and mumbling excuses toward the nearest free seat. It even had a name - Fury’s walk of shame - but there were less and less of those willing to walk it. And Loki was never as foolish to be one of them. Mostly because he didn't want to give Fury the satisfaction.

Sighing, Loki throws one last glance at the courtyard, more out of habit than anything else, and quite literally freezes on the spot. His heart, lungs and mind all stop working simultaneously. Not that it matters, as long as his eyes still remain functional.

Accompanied by three people - Loki recognizes Fandral and Hogun, and he _thinks_ the only girl in the group is that foreign exchange student, Helen or something, but he is quite certain he very, very much dislikes the way she is ogling the fourth person in their small group - there is Thor, walking in Loki’s direction.

When Thor had been a frog, Loki never truly saw him as a frog, he still remained Thor to him. But now, his eyes drinking in the sight of his former best friend, once again looking like himself, Loki realizes how much he missed Thor.

How much he still _does_.

Misses the way his brow furrows when he is annoyed, and how he tilts his head and quirks his lips into a smirk when he is joking. But most of all, he misses the slow spread of his lips into an affectionate smile and the warm glint in his - still ridiculously - blue eyes every time he sees Loki. 

Loki stands, wide-eyed and breathing shallowly, watching Thor coming closer and closer, caught between wanting to turn around and run as fast as he can, and wanting to... well, Loki isn't actually certain what it is, only that it involves a lot of groveling, and the word ‘sorry’ being repeated until Loki’s tongue goes numb.

The closer Thor comes, the more nervous Loki becomes, his hands shaking badly, his heart stuck in his throat, as his mind struggles to think of what to say to Thor, who is barely a few feet away now, walking up the stairs, smiling brightly and gesturing as he recounts some story. Not that Loki can discern his words over the loud noise of his own heartbeat. 

Loki’s breath hitches in his throat when there is only one step separating them, his mouth opening around a greeting, but Thor merely walks past him, not sparing him a glance.

As if Loki is nothing. Nothing but empty air.

For a long moment, Loki feels nothing. He is numb all over, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, as he stares in the direction Thor disappeared.

Then it happens - a slow and steady surge of pain, regret and helpless fury, rising inside his chest until Loki cannot breathe anymore, his eyes filling with tears.

 _This is what you wanted. For him to hate you. And now you have it. Congratulations, you have successfully alienated the only person who was always by your side._

Loki blinks to clear his vision. His throat is aching, and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from breaking into sobs. He is pathetic, truly pathetic. And really, what did he expect? For Thor to behave as if Loki hadn't berated him, insulted him, aiming at Thor’s weakest spot. What Loki spat into Thor’s face is something one wouldn't say to an enemy, let alone... to... to... well, why even bother to hide it from himself anymore - to the person you’re in love with. 

Taking a deep breath, Loki brings his hand up to his face, wiping away unshed tears with the back of his hand. Then, stumbling blindly, he turns and walks away in the opposite direction.

***

“You look like shit.”

Loki blinks, drawing his eyes away from his notebook and glancing at the person currently appropriating his sofa, looking at him with open curiosity, and very clearly not reading the notes Loki was kind to make for her. Or the book she needs to finish reading in three days. 

“Thank you, you sure have a way with words.” Loki says, but his words are distinctly lacking their usual bite. “But what does that have to do with Raskolnikov?”

“Who?”

Loki swallows a groan. “The main character? The one whose motivations and traits you need to analyze?”

“But it’s sooo booooring.” Darcy whines. “I swear, I’m ten pages into this book, and already _I_ want to throw myself in front of a train.”

“That’s Anna Karenina, and she’s not only a character from a different book, but a different author altogether.” Loki says, slowly. 

Darcy merely shrugs, looking completely unperturbed. “Whatever. They all sound the same to me, and they’re all boring. Poverty, politics and three pages long descriptions of every fucking little thing.”

Loki shakes his head, a corner of his mouth lifting upward despite himself. He is still amazed at how well they get along. They were taking the same class together, the Russian literature one, but they were properly introduced when Thor and Jane started dating. Both Jane and Thor were - without any subtlety whatsoever - trying to set them up. Despite the odds - one of them being Loki’s personality - they hit it off. But as most unlikely of friends. 

“Why are you even taking this class?” Loki asks, for the umpteenth time. “You have zero interest in it.”

“Personal reasons.” She says with a shrug, vague and without much sense as always.

Loki shakes his head, going back to his writing. He used to write almost every day - nothing much or especially good, but it made him feel accomplished - but now he cannot remember when was the last time he truly sat down and wrote something.

Loki blinks, his face drawing into a grimace when he realizes just what he’s been writing for the past half an hour. A name. Four letters. Nothing else. Over and over again.

Well, this is getting beyond pathetic. What’s next? He’ll start to scribble Mr.& Mr. Odinson inside hearts?

“What happened between you and Thor?”

Sighing, Loki closes his notebook, placing it carefully on the floor next to himself. He takes a moment to gather himself, schooling his expression into something more or less casual. He knew this question was coming sooner or later. He would have preferred if it came later, though. 

“Why do you think something happened between us?”

Darcy snorts. “Because I have eyes. I don’t even need to mention that mysterious disappearance.” She says, her eyes resting on Loki’s. Loki does not glance away, but only barely. She may seem quirky and with an attention span of a three-year old - often she truly _is_ \- but she is also smart and could sense bullshit. “He used to hang here all the time. I don’t think I ever came to see you without Thor already roaming around your apartment.” Her face takes on a dreamy note for a moment. “In those tight jeans, showing off that ass. Hmmmmm.”

Loki blinks, feeling the first twinges of a headache throbbing in his temples. “I don’t think Thor Odinson’s ass has anything to do with Dostoevsky. And you passing this class.”

“Well, it should. It’s a fine ass. It deserves to be written about.” Darcy says flatly. Loki swallows a groan, trying not to let his mind wander in the direction of said ass. “And don’t think I didn't notice you changing the subject.”

“There is nothing to be said. We’re not as close as we used to be.” Loki says, congratulating himself on how even and strong his voice is. Even if the words leave the taste of ash in his mouth. “End of story.”

“Riiiight.” Darcy says, looking utterly unconvinced. “You know, I've always thought you two are going to hook up.” She adds thoughtfully.

Loki blinks, his heart doing a somersault. “ _What_?” He squawks. Frowning, he forces his voice into a tonality appropriate for humans. “We were _friends_. Doesn't anyone believe anymore such a thing exists?”

Darcy shrugs. “I’m your friend and I check out your ass regularly. But I don’t look at you like I want to braid your hair with daisies and worship the ground you walk on.”

Loki blinks, utterly at a loss for words, feeling an embarrassing flush rise to his cheeks.

“I don’t look at Thor like that.” Loki says, his voice shrill. 

Darcy arches an eyebrow, smirking. “I didn't say _you_ were looking at _him_ that way, did I? You only assumed I was talking about you.”

Darcy doesn’t say anything else, reaching after her book, but a hint of a smirk stays on her lips. 

Loki blinks, his heart starting to race as a thought, both horrifying and wonderful, begins to form inside his mind. 

Amora said it first, and now Darcy, could there...? No, it’s not true. It _can’t_ be true. Thor was never- Thor could never-

 _No._

Loki grits his teeth, refusing to allow himself to consider the possibility. Because that would mean he’d fucked up on a cosmical scale.


	8. Chapter 8

Tapping his foot, more out of irritation than following the beat of the music, Loki shakes his head, asking himself for the umpteenth time in the last half an hour, what chemical imbalance in his brain made him think that accepting Darcy’s invitation to go out with her tonight would be a good idea.

_“Oh come on, it’ll do you good.” She says, batting her eyelashes comically. “You’re starting to look like something out of a horror movie. You need fresh air.”_

_“Please, keep sweet talking to me, I’m almost swayed.” Loki says, wryly, crossing his hands over his chest. “And yes, there is no air fresher than that inside of a night club on a Saturday night.”_

_Darcy merely waves a dismissive hand. “Now you’re just nitpicking.”_

Loki didn't actually want to go out with Darcy. Clubs were always a tad too loud for his taste, not to mention crowded with way too many idiots who only became even more so via consumption of alcohol and hormonal influence.

But where did that leave him?

Spending yet another sleepless night alone and battling with memories of Thor’s face, trying to find a proof of Darcy’s words, both dreading and hoping what he’ll find. And all the while trying to stop himself from picking up his cell and calling Thor, telling him everything - from his meeting with Amora to that awful scene in Loki’s apartment. 

One night he came awfully close to doing just that - he already had his thumb over Thor’s name, but, somehow, he managed to stop himself from dialing.

God, but how he wanted to find the one responsible for that ‘time heals all wounds’ crap, and wring their neck. Loki was most certainly not getting better; in no way, shape or form. He was literally becoming obsessed with Thor, alternating between avoiding him religiously, and deliberately going to places on campus he knew he had the highest chance of seeing Thor.

But Thor refused to acknowledge Loki’s existence, carrying on as if Loki was no more than a ghost haunting the place - awkward, unwanted and unimportant. 

It hurt like hell, but Loki still made himself watch Thor with other people, his insides twisting with jealousy and rage at the way Thor looked and smiled at that Helen girl. 

It was his penance and his reward all at once.

_Tilting his head, Loki sighs. “You need a ride, don’t you?”_

_Darcy beams, rising up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Well, yeah, but I also need you to keep me company.”_

_“Remind me again, why do I put up with you?”_

_“Because you’re a sarcastic jerk with misanthropic tendencies and way too little empathy, and I’m one of the few people who actually appreciate it.” She smiles widely, gathering her things. “Besides, I’m adorable.”_

And now here he is, no more than a gloomy shadow, leaning against a table and staring with unabashed disgust - and _envy_ , a small voice inside his mind adds - at all those happy, laughing people around him.

“You’re still here.” Darcy comments, slightly out of breath, when she returns from the dance floor, downing what was left of her drink in one long gulp.

Loki blinks, somewhat impressed. “And where should I be?”

“Flirting, possibly even dancing. You know, I've seen three chicks and one dude check you out.” Darcy says, ignoring the bite in Loki’s words. ”Despite all that ‘tortured, possibly psychotic’ look you've got going.”

“So you think I should engage in conversation with someone who would fall for a potential psychopath?”

“I think you should have fun.” Darcy counters, unfazed. “You _do_ remember what fun is?”

“You asked for my physical presence and means of transportation.” Loki points out. “I don’t recall anything about me having fun being mentioned.”

“God, you’re going to be impossible once you graduate.” Darcy says, rolling her eyes. “It was im-,” breaking off, she peers over Loki’s shoulder, her expression becoming a mixture of impressed and dreamy. “Mmmm, I like.”

Frowning, Loki turns, but the moment his eyes catch sight which made Darcy all but drool, he very, very much regrets that decision.

The expression on Darcy’s face doesn’t seem exaggerated considering how hot Thor looks in dark jeans and a simple gray T-shirt underneath a long, dark-red coat. 

But it is the look on his face - relaxed, content, mouth stretched into a bright smile - which goes straight to Loki’s heart.

Loki is staring, possibly even gaping, he knows it, but as much as wishes, he cannot seem to draw his eyes away from Thor, barely registering Fandral and Steve accompanying him.

Loki’s unblinking attention is the only reason why he doesn’t miss the way Thor halts his steps suddenly, his eyes widening into an expression Loki cannot pin down - surprise? shock? _longing??_ \- when he notices Loki.

They continue staring at one another for what seems like forever - Thor’s first true acknowledgment of Loki’s existence since he reverted back to human form - even if it’s likely a matter of seconds. 

The spell breaks when Steve tugs at Thor’s elbow, laughing and leaning toward Thor to whisper something into his ear. The muscle in Thor’s jaw twitches as he listens to Steve even as his eyes remain on Loki. Then, he blinks, once, two times, and just like that, Loki is once again nothing but a ghost to him as he continues forward, joining the crowd of writhing bodies on the dance floor. 

Swallowing, Loki looks away from Thor and turns, curling his fingers into fists. He eyes the clear liquid in his glass for a moment, considering. It calls to him, offering blessed oblivion if only for a few hours. It would be so fucking easy to drown his sorrows in alcohol, to give himself at least one night of respite. 

It would be also futile and pathetic. He’s already sunken lower than he had ever thought possible, he really doesn’t need to turn into a walking cliché.

“You know, it’s a shame I like Jane so much, ‘cause I’d totally hit that.”

Loki drags his eyes away from his glass, sending a heated glare Darcy’s way. 

Darcy merely rises her eyebrow, leaning slightly forward, her voice dropping down to a whisper. “That, right now? Was ‘keep your hands away, bitch’ look. Just so you know if you intend to fake indifference in the future.” 

Loki blinks, opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Not denial, not outrage, not even some scathing remark. The words are there, on the tip of his tongue, but he simply doesn’t have the strength to say them. 

“You’re hopeless.” Darcy sighs, shaking her head. Then, she whirls on her heel, and gets lost on the dance floor. 

What comes next is possibly the worst hour of Loki’s life. Excluding the epic tragedy of the last time he and Thor were alone together.

When he turns toward the dance floor - because he is bored, and not because he managed to register the sound of Thor laughing over the pounding beat of music - he catches sight of Thor dancing with a pretty brunette.

Loki’s first instinct is to turn around, second is to stride over to the dance floor and drag Thor away, third to get as far away as he possibly can, but he settles for the fourth - he keeps watching.

That was almost an hour ago, and during that time what was once a dance had slowly morphed into fucking with clothes on. And yet, Loki still watches, his eyes not moving from the pair. 

Currently, the brunette is rubbing her ass against Thor’s crotch, one of her hands curved around the nape of Thor's neck, the fingers of her other hand interlaced with Thor’s, while Thor’s other hand remains folded possessively around her waist. 

It’s masochism, plain and simple. Like pouring salt over an open wound. And it goes on and on and _on_ , the sharp burn from an hour ago now turning into a dull, throbbing ache concentrated in the middle of his chest.

But even Loki has his limits. 

He learns of that fact when the brunette turns and drags Thor’s head down into a passionate kiss.

Loki is not entirely sure how - considering his eyes are burning with unshed tears and his chest feels like it’s on the verge of shattering into a hundred tiny pieces - but he somehow manages to stumble into the club’s restroom.

By some stroke of luck, Loki finds the restroom empty. He briefly contemplates locking the door, but he decides against it, hoping that no one will enter until he manages to get himself under a semblance of control.

Bracing himself against the sink, Loki hangs his head, taking deep, shuddering breaths, trying to purge the images of Thor and that brunette from his mind.

Loki is unsure how long he’s been inside the restroom, when the unmistakable sound of a door being locked pierces through the haze of anger, hurt and jealousy wrapped firmly around his mind.

Loki snaps his head up, but the face he finds staring at him from the mirror with narrowed, resolute eyes is the last face he expected to see. 

“We need to talk.” Thor says, flatly, eyes glinting with deadly determination. 

Loki simply stares at Thor’s reflection in the mirror for one long moment, considering his demand.

Then, he slowly turns around, his lips turning up into a smirk. 

“Do we now?” Loki asks, surprising even himself with how cold and steady his voice sounds. 

Had this happened any other day, hell, even an hour earlier, Loki isn't entirely certain he would be able to summon enough willpower to keep silent about his deal with Amora. But now, with the images of Thor’s hands all over that brunette’s body, of his head dipping low so his lips could brush against the shell of her ear, there is an angry, snarling animal thrashing inside Loki’s chest, demanding _blood_. 

“Yes.” Thor says, squaring his shoulders as if he prepares for a battle, taking a step forward. “We do. And this time I’m not leaving until I get the answers I need.”

“I see you are not hopping around anymore.” Loki says, relishing the slight wince of Thor’s head and a subsequent frown creasing Thor’s forehead. “Congratulations.” Folding his hands across his chest, Loki tilts his head, his smirk turning positively vicious. “Who kissed you? Jane? And so soon you are betraying your one true love with a random stranger. That’s not how fairytales go, Thor. If you’re not careful, you could end up a frog again.”

Thor’s mouth opens, his eyes flashing with fury, but no sound comes out. He stays silent a few moments, taking deep breaths, visibly fighting for control. Loki swallows a snort. Like that will help, there are so many buttons he can push to break that control. Some not even Thor knows are there.

“You know that’s not true.” Thor grounds out. “No one kissed me. I simply awoke like this day after you threw me out.”

Loki arches an eyebrow. “And how could I have possibly known that? I haven’t seen you since you left with Jane.” Loki states, feigning nonchalance. “Perhaps it was a gift from your fairy godmother?” Pausing, Loki brings his index finger up to his face, tapping it against his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Now that I think of it, it’s not so far-fetched. No matter how deep a trouble you found yourself in, you always managed to come out relatively unscathed.”

“I thought it was daddy’s money that got me out. Or so you said.”

Loki tilts his head, studying Thor’s face, drawn into a tight grimace of bitterness and hurt. “Well, that too.”

“Why are you doing this?” Thor whispers, and for the first time since Thor’s entrance and demand, Loki feels a twinge of discomfort inside his chest.

He ignores it.

“Doing what? Talking to you?” Loki says, deceptively soft, his eyes fixed on Thor’s. “As I recall, it was your idea.”

Thor opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, door handle rattles, followed by a loud banging and a voice demanding entrance.

“Go somewhere else!” Thor roars, not taking his eyes away from Loki’s.

The banging stops immediately.

Loki snorts, shaking his head. “That was mature.” He says, his lips pressing into an annoyed line. “You know he is going to come back, right? With the bouncer?”

“I don’t care.” Thor says, smiling darkly.

“Well, I do.” Loki hisses, suddenly tired of this entire situation. Tired of Thor’s questions, tired of his simple presence, but most of all, tired of this fucking longing inside his chest. “If you want to cause trouble, you do it but leave me out of it.”

“Then tell me the truth.” Thor breathes out, his voice a strange mix of a demand and a plea. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Loki snaps, his voice turning into a growl, all his anger and hurt from past few weeks pouring into his words. “You’re not the center of the universe, no matter what you might believe. I don’t live my life based on how it affects _you_. I do what _I_ want.” 

“That’s bullshit. I've known you... we've been friends since we were kids.” Thor states, but there is a touch of insecurity in his eyes. “There must be a reason why you've suddenly turned into a colossal jerk and I want to know why.”

Loki laughs; low, cold and utterly without mirth.

“Newsflash, Odinson. I've always been a jerk. But having you as a friend did have its benefits.”

Thor’s eyes widen and he actually staggers back a step, as if hit.

“What?” 

Loki takes a step forward, then another, and another, until he is standing only a step away from Thor, close enough to see the slight tremor of his lips and the naked, raw hurt inside his eyes.

“Sunday dinners, family vacations, toys, games and everything I couldn't get because my father tended to forget he had a son. And all I had to do was smile and pretend I enjoyed the company of a loud, brainless and arrogant brat.”

“No.” Thor whispers, his voice shaking. Then, stronger. “No, you’re lying again.” Taking a step forward, Thor grabs Loki by his biceps. “I know you. I know when you lie. You were-” his voice breaking, Thor pulls Loki closer, pressing his forehead against Loki’s. “You were the only one who never looked at me with pity and disgust when I was a frog. You always looked at me the same.”

Loki freezes, the heat of Thor’s breath on his face and the closeness of his body doing things to him he couldn't allow Thor to notice. 

“Well, I suppose I didn't care enough to look at you differently. And it was fun seeing you hop around my apartment.”

Thor freezes, his hold turning painful, the sound of his harsh breathing the only sound in the restroom. 

Then, slowly, Thor lifts his head, his hands falling by his sides as he takes a step back.

The look on his face... well, even if all other memorizes leave his mind, Loki is quite certain the expression on Thor’s face - empty, dejected, defeated - will stay to haunt him forever.

“I see.” Thor says, his voice void of all emotion. “Well, that’s it then.”

Thor shakes his head, a low chuckle falling from his lips. “You know, you didn't have to fake anything. I- we’d still love you.” 

Then, he turns around and unlocks the door, but stops with his hand on the handle.

“It was you, you know.” Thor whispers without turning around.

Loki’s heart skips a beat, a shudder running through him. He feels like he is walking toward the edge of a cliff, unable to stop himself. He presses his lips tightly, stopping the question from leaving his lips, but Thor’s still gives him the answer. 

“The reason she cursed me.” Thor says, a low chuckle falling from his lips. “I was drunk, miserable and weak and... well, we fucked, but I fucked up. I said the wrong name.”

With that, Thor wrenches the door open, forcing his way through a small crowd of people gathered in front of the restroom. 

Loki doesn’t move for a long time, he remains still and silent, wondering why a heart still continues to beat even after it breaks.


End file.
